Righteously Defiled
by liquid-thought
Summary: Dean walks in on Castiel masturbating using his wings. Turns out Cas is a bit of an exhibitionist once he gets going.


Sam was in another city, an easy salt-and-burn-as-you-please because fuck the apocalypse and fuck Heaven, they needed a break. Dean texted Cas, telling him where his hotel was just in case he decided to drop by. Searching for God had been going like shit and Dean knew how a good distraction could keep a guy from going nuts. Stress relief was something he understood, it was basic and needed. His stress relief could be found in the form of the Impala, something with a proof higher than the temperature of an Arizona summer and occasionally a pretty face and a willing hole. Gender was usually decided on whether or not he was really fucking stressed. Occasionally it was just nice to have a body that was as firm as his under him so he could really let go.

So yeah, Dean got it, in principle. Did he get the actual logistics of one of his only true friends straddling one of his pillows, naked on the top half of his body with his hands buried in feathers like a greedy kid grabbing at cotton candy? No, that he really didn't get very much at all.

He struggled to stay quiet, Cas seemed like he was off in his own world and Dean didn't really want to drag him out of it. The guy hadn't even heard him close the door for fuck's sake. He was pulling gently on jet black primaries and secondaries, stroking smoky blue coverts as his body spasmed. Dean had never seen him like this, lost in sensation. His wings were fucking huge, twice as wide as Dean was tall and even that was probably an underestimation because of the way they were curled in toward their host.

Castiel groaned deeply, grinding down into the pillow between his legs as he shook and rubbed. Damn.

"Dean." He thought for a moment he was caught and froze, then it hit him, Cas was still all liquid and writhing. So to recap, his best friend seemed to be jacking off, using his wings no less, in Dean's bed, moaning Dean's name and if there was anything at all that he knew for sure would get him damned back to the Pit it was Dean standing there, watching while he did so.

He didn't remember telling his body to make noise, but suddenly he was aware that he was hard and his hand had a mind of its own, moving to his groin and pushing down with enough pressure to make him gasp.

Castiel's eyes flew open, his body freezing as his hands flew away from his now-hidden wings. He stared at Dean, shocked — though whether it was that he was found or that Dean was the one to find him wasn't clear. He didn't move, seemingly stuck in place by the realization that Dean had in fact caught him. Though it seemed a little like he wanted to be caught. You didn't jack off in someone else's bed just because. There were plenty of other places Cas could have gone, but he didn't. He was in Dean's bed, humping his pillows like he wanted Dean to see and if that was the game Dean was more than happy to oblige him in playing.

"D-Dean, I—"

"Take 'em out." His voice was rougher than he'd anticipated and made him seem a lot more steady than he really was. Castiel tilted his head, like he wasn't perfectly fucking aware of what Dean was asking. "I said, take. Them. Out."

Castiel shivered minutely, muscles twitching under his skin and he exhaled slowly, wings unfurling from invisibility. They twitched, seeming to have a personality all their own. Normally reading Cas wasn't terribly easy, not impossible by any stretch, but the guy could keep it together in almost any situation. His face was blank, calm and collected but his wings were shaking and fluttering around. He was nervous, or excited. Either way, that calm was an act and it was way more satisfying than it should have been for Dean to be able to tell. More than just fucking up his poker face, Cas' wings were fucking gorgeous. Black and sleek like the Impala after she'd just been polished, but with silver ticking and smaller feathers the color of nighttime clouds.

Dean could see that Cas got more nervous the less he did, so he threw away his last shreds of sanity and self-preservation and climbed onto the bed with the still half-horny angel. He reached forward and touched the left wing, his right hand tingling before he even hit feather. He'd expected them to be a bit like the hawk wings he'd touched at that one haunted taxidermist's in Michigan when he was younger, but they weren't. They were soft and cold and even with his heart racing he felt calmer when he touched them.

"This what you do, Cas? You come to my room, sit in my bed and touch yourself?" He lightly tugged one of the secondary feathers, like he'd seen Cas doing moments before and smirked when the wing leaned into his touch.

Castiel faltered, his mouth open, but not saying anything. He took a shaky breath and cleared his throat. "I…" Dean caught his eye, cocking one brow and smirking. Castiel didn't continue, only bit his lower lip and looked away from Dean's eyes.

"Ah, ah, ahh." Dean grabbed his jaw firmly and gently lifted his face, forcing him to make eye contact. "You're a soldier, Cas, no need to get anxious now."

Something in Cas' eyes changed, they were harder, cooler. "Are you ordering me to tell you?" His gaze was harsh, questioning and unforgiving, but the feathers on his wings were fluffing out all over and becoming disheveled.

Dean hummed appreciatively and inched closer to Castiel, watching as the angel glared at his wings when they reached out to him of their own volition. A memory popped into his head that gave him a wicked idea. If Cas really wanted to play, Dean would win.

"Thought you didn't serve me, Cas. Fuck, you rebelled and you still made that clear. You tellin' me you want me to order you around?" He dropped his hand from Cas' face, gently flicking the lower feathers of his other wing. Cas' eyes closed, his head falling to the side. It was a clear invitation and Dean took it, biting and licking the skin offered. Castiel's wings closed around him, circling him covetously. He nipped his way up to the angel's ear, kissing the shell before speaking. "Isn't this a little blasphemous, Cas? What would Heaven think? What would Michael think? I'm supposed to be the archangel's top bitch, aren't I?"

Dean's body was crushed to Castiel's, his wings forming an impossible net around his shoulders and torso. It was his turn to have his neck lavished, Cas' greedy hands pulling at his clothing before it would just disappear from his body. Soon Cas had them both down to their boxers, still clutching at Dean like he was the one with wings who could just fly off at a moment's notice.

"Michael can't have you." Dean didn't whimper, no, not at all. Having an unthinkably old badass soldier of God undressing him and growling at him… nope, that most certainly did not elicit a whimper and if anyone said differently, they could try to say it again with a few less teeth.

Whatever power-play had been going on was becoming intoxicating to Dean, he knew somewhere he shouldn't enjoy it so much, but it wasn't often he got an ego boost and power quite like this. Wasn't often he felt quite as much as this. He reached around, palming his friend's ass roughly. Cas turned his head and kissed him. It wasn't the kind of kiss he was expecting, it wasn't sloppy or fierce. The kiss was deep, fucking hot with the way Cas sucked his tongue, and it was intense. His skin was buzzing, feathers brushing over like static that made his hair prick and stand on end.

Dean slipped one of his hands to the center, pushing in and dragging his fingers over Cas' hole under his boxers. The angel arched into his touch and keened softly against his lips.

Dean growled and dug his fingers into the soft flesh almost painfully, but Cas only moaned louder. "This what you were thinking about earlier, Cas? Having the Michael-sword up your ass?"

Castiel responded by pulling him tighter with his wings and grinding into him obscenely, his cock hard against Dean's. He reached around with his free hand and dug into Cas' boxers, wrapping a hand around him as best he could with what little space the angel would allow. Castiel most certainly did whimper and it gave Dean a sick pleasure to have caused it. His fingers stayed pressed to Cas' hole, rubbing around the rim mercilessly while he teased the head of his cock and nuzzled into his wings.

It didn't take much before Castiel clutched to him desperately and moaned loudly, hips bucking as his balls pulsed and sent come out to coat Dean's fingers. Cas caught his wrist and yanked his hand up, slurping the come off of his skin. Dean got a little breathless at the sight, licking his lips unconsciously.

He was still surrounded by greedy angel wings, though they weren't clinging as much as before. Quicker than he could process, Castiel was pushing him off the bed, lying on his stomach with his wings pulled tight against his back.

"Cas?"

"Mark them." Dean's breath caught, he didn't mean— "Make it so that any of the brothers that come to kill me will have to smell you on my wings, see the stains from where I was defiled by the Righteous Man. Make me yours, Dean. Mark me. Please."

His voice was shaking near the end with either excitement or desperation, maybe both. Dean swore under his breath and pushed his boxers down. Not exactly how he'd pictured everything ending, but anything worth doing was definitely worth overdoing.

Never in his wildest dreams was this something he imagined, even when Cas did start making the occasional appearance in them. He always figured he'd never see Cas' actual wings, or that he'd be uptight about them. Maybe a blushing, stammering virgin. He really never expected for the guy to be so damned kinky. It was in no way a bad thing.

Dean wrapped his hand around himself, gripping firmly as he began to jack himself off. Cas' head was resting on his arms, head turned to the side as he watched with a slight smile. A fucking _smile_ on his face while he waited for Dean to come on him. The entire situation was driving him mad, pushing him closer to the edge than he had any right to be after just starting. He rubbed underneath the head, imagining all the ways he could further defile his angel. Castiel lazily reached out with one hand, fingers stroking over his balls curiously and light enough to tickle. That was all Dean could take, his balls tightening as the pressure that had built up burst. He leaned forward, almost shouting as spurts of come landed in the dark feathers splayed out in front him. A few drops landed on Cas' back, between his shoulder blades and Dean reached out to swipe it up and rub it into the shadowy pillow of Cas' right wing.

By the time he could see feathers clumping together with dried semen Castiel tucked his wings back into nothingness. He sat up to his knees and tugged Dean back onto the mattress by his hips, kissing him possessively.

He smiled against Dean's lips, nipping at the bottom one with harsh teeth. "Next time you should mark me on the inside."

Before Dean could respond Cas chuckled and flew off. Dean breathed deeply, trying not to think too hard about the fact that the beating of wings he heard was decorated in his come.


End file.
